


this side of mortality

by throats



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Tattoos, non-binary!chuck, this happened idk, weird references to my fave non-binary chuck hansen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:19:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throats/pseuds/throats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's been five years and hermann is going to do something he swore he would never do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this side of mortality

It is a truth universally acknowledged that persons in the presence of Doctor Newton Geiszler will eventually decide to get a tattoo at some point in their lives. 

Doctor Hermann Gottlieb is the outlier to this figure - he is _bamboozled_ into a tattoo by his wife and partner, five years after Gipsy Danger dropped through the Breach and self-destructed. Their daughter is five and he is an esteemed professor at Oxford University and he does not need a tattoo because he is a professional, thank you very much, unlike his miscreant partner and beautiful (albeit rebellious wife - who is not even a professor and has no _need_ for professionalism, so it’s a moot point.)

It all starts at their table at breakfast. Their daughter, Charlotte, is nearly five years old and coloring on the kitchen table, across from Hermann. Her mother, Vanessa stands behind the counter in her bathrobe, brewing coffee as Newt steps from the bedroom, still in his pyjamas as well.

He’s used to this - Vanessa and Hermann waking up much later than he, already woken by the dull ache in his leg, is the one to wake their daughter and help her dress in the mornings. They trade off by time of day. Newt doesn’t teach classes after four and picks Charlotte up from daycare and Vanessa is the one who puts her to bed. They’re all creatures of habit and haven’t deviated from the system since... well, since they’d come to London.

(It had been a bit of a rough start. Vanessa had been working in Paris at the time, completing a doctorate and very pregnant, had not been exactly pleased to see her husband coming home holding hands with Newton - and well, it was a lot to explain, let alone accept and believe.

But despite rough enough starts, it eventually works. Vanessa grows oddly fond of how Newt listens to house music and punk rock at top volume and leaves a wave of mess behind him wherever he goes; Newt starts to love Vanessa of his own volition - not just because Hermann loves her with all his heart; and Hermann, well. He can’t sleep without Newt, needs to touch him near _constantly_ in that first year, and even, eventually finds Newt nestled between his ribcage alongside Vanessa.

And there’s the baby - Newt is surprisingly good with her, despite at first suggesting they name her after the baby kaiju to Hermann’s dull surprise and Vanessa’s horror. They name her after Chuck, who Hermann saw grow up and Newt knew in another way, who Hermann saw through Newt’s eyes, a sad, lost child who didn’t know themselves well enough to die.)

Vanessa sits down next to Hermann at the table, touching their ankles together with a fond smile. “We should go out tonight,” she says.

Hermann blinks, looking up from the notes he’d been taking alongside his coffee and eggs, which lay untouched. “Why?”

Newt speaks then, slipping into Vanessa’s lap - she’s taller than both of them, blonde and six feet tall, a stunner if there ever was one. Hermann’s constantly struck by how lucky he is, the feeling beating against him with the regularity of the tide. “Well it’s been five years.”

He’s about to ask _five years since what - Charlotte’s birthday isn’t for another three months_ until he realizes, blinking. He thinks about the unopened card from the Becket-Moris, the postcard from Tendo on the refrigerator. The last time they saw Marshall Hansen, six months ago when he’d been in London for a speaking engagement.

They used to be a family - a broken one that did less talking and more punching, but a family. Now they were scattered fragments on the wind. The last time they had been together was four years ago when they’d each been award Nobels - himself, for Mathematics, Newton for Physiology, the Becket-Moris and Marshall Hansen for Peace. 

“Hey, no don’t do that,” it’s Newt, reaching over to cup his chin, bringing him back. “Don’t chase the rabbit.” Newton smiles. “We saved the frigging world, c’mon man, that’s a celebration, not a sad thing.”

Hermann sighs and sets down his pen. “At what cost?” he asks, quiet. He thinks of Mako’s sad look of determination, the knowledge of losing both sets of parents to the kaiju weighing on her thin shoulders. He thinks of Marshall Hansen, who had no one - they should have done something, stayed in touch, anything -

“Hermann,” Newt says, louder now. He can still feel Newton, pressed against the back of his memory, of his consciousness. The effects of a drift with a hivemind were unclear, but even after five years, they’re still able to achieve a minimal drift, if they could call it that. 

He looks at Newton, whose eyes are searching his own. Vanessa untangles herself from Newt, squeezing his shoulder as she leaves, taking Charlotte with her. Newt takes his hands, running his fingers of the backs. Hermann’s hands are chapped, bony and thin - he’s near fifty, and god he feels it. He didn’t fight the war like the Becket-Moris or the Hansens, but he fought a war, and god, sometimes he wonders if it won. 

He looks at Newton, his gaze slipping to the blue ink that swirls up his neck. Newt fought a war too, they all did and they all lost something. And maybe they all gained something too, he has Newton and Vanessa and he gets to share them, gets to keep them - he’s the luckiest man alive, really he is.

And now he thinks about Mako at her father’s services, of Raleigh’s arm around her the whole time, the way she seemed to gain strength by simply looking at him. He thinks of Marshall Hansen, who has worked tirelessly to keep the Jaeger program active, so that when the kaiju or something else entirely come again, that they’re ready, that no one else has to die.

(He knows these memories are Newt’s, the perspective is off, a little shorter than his own, but they’re still powerful and they feel like his, Newton’s memories will always feel like his and his will always feel like Newton’s.)

He thinks about the tattoo Newton has at the small of his back, four jaegers and eight pilots. 

Newton slips his way into his lap, careful of his hip and cards a hand through Hermann’s hair. He looks at his partner - fifteen years, they’ve been together, the last five of which together in more senses than one. Newt presses his thumb to the curve of his brow, hums for a moment, holding his gaze before kissing Hermann, slow, easy and familiar. They kiss for what feels like ages, Newton’s mouth soft and warm against his. When they part, Newt smiles. “Let’s go out, yeah?”

 

 

Once they’ve left Charlotte with the sitter, Hermann has no idea where they’re going. They take the tube into Cowley Road and he starts to get nervous. He’s not the caricature of the grumpy professor, as much as Newton enjoys trying to convince people he is, but the bright colors and vibrance of the neighborhood have never been enjoyable to him.

They have dinner at a pub, it’s noisy and dark and no one questions them about the three of them holding hands or taking turns kissing each other. They have a decent selection of German micobrews and Hermann drinks until he starts to feel warm in the middle, smiling and relaxed enough with Newton’s hand on his thigh and Vanessa’s at the base of his neck.

The night draws to a close and they end up at Newton’s tattoo parlor. “I wanna get something,” he says, “you know, for us - for the drift, for what we did.”

He nods. Newt’s still talking, about what he’s thinking, how great the night is, everything, anything. He’s not quite watching him, but feeling him, feeling Newton next to him, feeling Newton talking. “What’s the base code for the drift, man? I think I should get that.”

Hermann blinks. He’s already sputtered off some of the beginning numbers before even registering what Newton’s said. “Why on Earth would you want that?”

Newton shrugs, “You wrote the code, first. And we drifted together - what better way to express it, man?”

Vanessa slips her arm around Hermann’s waist. “You should get one too darling, really - it was, _is_ , so important - for the world, for _us._ ”

“No, absolutely not. I won’t.”

 

 

Three hours and one oath that no one else will have an _centimeter_ of his body tattooed, later they’re on the train back home towards Central North and Hermann cups his wrist, which is now circled in three rows of code, matching the lines at the base of Newton’s neck. 

Vanessa rests her head on his shoulder while Newt dozes, his head in Hermann’s lap and Herman’s fingers tangled into his matted brown hair.

**Author's Note:**

> so i have no idea if there's any subway system in oxford but, oh well. tried my best to mess with the canon as little as possible. hope you enjoyed it pals!


End file.
